


Angel of Fury

by Darcyshire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Child Abuse, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con References, Roleplay, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darcyshire/pseuds/Darcyshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is the new kid in town, and Castiel is the child of an abusive home. Happy fun times, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a roleplay with one of my friends on Tumblr, by the URL mistress-winchester. By request I am compiling it here.

Castiel didn’t think much of Dean when he first transferred to their small school in Detroit, Michigan. Then again, Castiel didn’t like to think much of anything. He kept to himself and tried not to piss the others off. He and Dean shared one class. Second period English. Granted, Dean usually showed up late to class without his homework done and shit eating grin on his face as the teacher questioned him.

Besides, Castiel had more pressing matters at hand. Like the mood his father might be in when he gets home, or if his mother will be alright that night. Or if he would have to take the brunt of her pain. Which is why he sat beneath the oak tree at the edge of school campus, writing out his book notes and trying to do anything that made it seem like he didn’t exist. He usually sat in this little hill or grass beneath the massive tree and did his homework until sundown.

In Dean’s mind, the new school was nice- not as nice as his old school, but he’d been expelled from there after the last dance, hadn’t he? Not that anyone knew that save perhaps the school officials, and they were probably too busy with their corporate lives to care. Dean enjoyed flying under the radar; he got away with far too much simply because he was a charismatic speaker, and so he came to most classes late without his assignments completed. Sometimes he didn’t even bother showing up. English was his favorite class though, and he did sometimes put a little more effort into it; despite his rugged reputation Dean was fond of reading.

Eventually he picked up on another loner, a boy in his second period. Castiel, he recalled- a strange name. They’d never really spoken, but one day Dean found himself curious enough about his classmate to follow him after school to the edge of campus. He sat beneath the large oak, shaded by its branches, which bloomed in every direction. His school bag lay at his hip, and papers were in his lap. Homework. Dean approached casually, his strides long and confident. “Mind if I join you?”

Castiel didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings as he did his homework, pulling at the sleeves of his jacket every so often before continuing his notes. He jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, pencil making a stray mark across the paper as he tilted his head back, taking in the scene before him. Never once in a million years did Castiel think Dean Winchester would ask if he could sit with him. Nope, because Dean isn’t like that. Narrowing his eyes slowly, Castiel nodded, scooting over a bit to give his classmate a bit a room. Curiosity was eating away at him by now. Why? Why was he here? He tugged at the sleeve of his blue sweater anxiously.

“Hello, Dean.” he said slowly. “What have I done to receive this pleasure?” Cas couldn’t remember saying anything to him or doing anything. Maybe he had gotten in with Lucifer- the school’s calculating thug- and his crowd and and was sent to rough him off. It w=had happened before.

“Just stoppin’ by. No need to be a stranger.” Dean replied easily, dumping his backpack to the side and taking a seat next to Castiel. He smiled then, a grin that stretched wide across his face and made the delicate skin around his green eyes crinkle. One hand reached for his bag and unzipped it before tugging out a spiral bound notebook and a tattered copy of Macbeth while the other dug into one of the pockets of his too-big leather jacket for a pen. He settled against the tree and opened the book, but it was really just an excuse to be there; he’d already read it twice, but it gave him cover to study Castiel.

A few minutes passed- he could feel the tension radiating off of his classmate. “So, what’s the deal? Do just sit here and do dumb work all afternoon, or are you waiting for someone?” Dean asked, lifting his gaze from the play. “Doncha have a home to go back to?” He meant the comment flippantly. Offhand. Even he had a place with his asshole father and little brother, and it seemed weird to just be… out. Not partying, not working a job or out to eat, just out.

Castiel watched him for a moment as he flashed him his all famous Winchester grin before opening his book. Cas continued scribbling notes down in his elegant handwriting not paying much attention to Dean until the other boy spoke again. “I like to get my work done.” Castiel murmured quietly. “And it’s not dumb.” He paused, annoyance flickering on his face. “It’s _Shakespeare_.”

Dean smirked. “So do you just camp out here, or what?”

“I just need to read. Is that a problem?”

“Nothing wrong with Shakespeare,” Dean replied, dropping his cocky attitude slightly as he sent a very serious glance in Castiel’s direction. “It’s just that Macbeth is a blithering idiot. He leaves everything up to chance, and then winds up in this big bloody mess. So much blood, dude, just because he wouldn’t take charge of his life. It’s almost as bad as Romeo and Juliet.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t even get me started on that one. Midsummer’s Night Dream is my favorite, though.” Oh, god, was he geeking out over Shakespearean plays with this guy? Very smooth, Dean.

Castiel was surprised by Dean’s knowledge of Shakespeare and it made him a little guilty to judge the Winchester so quickly. He did have a bit of a reputation already, so it wasn’t entirely his fault...

Dean paused then, taking a few moments to scrawl out a few bullshit lines about the play and character development on the notebook resting on his thigh. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know the story. “Anyways,” continued Dean, “it’s just a bit weird to just stay out here. Most kids go home, crash on the couch and play video games for a few hours before they tackle homework. What do you do when it rains, build a fort?” He looked up into the branches of the oak above, golden sunlight dappling across his smirking face.

“Of course I have a home,” he said slowly, angrily, grinding out every word before looking down at his paper and gritting his teeth together. No. He would not act like this. Castiel didn’t like to be home, he also didn’t like being with people. He was reclusive and people avoided him anyways, so it wasn’t like he could go party. He didn’t have a car to drive to work with and even then, when would he have the time? No. Best to stay under the oak tree.

Dean wasn’t about to give up. “So what’s the deal? Fight with your siblings or something?” Dean wasn’t stupid; he knew the signs of a troubled kid, and Castiel fit the description. A loner who stayed away from home- he was odd, at least.

Castiel had stopped writing by then, watching the boy in front of him as he scribbled down some lines in his tattered spiral notebook before he countinued to speak, Castiel’s ears trained on him as he casually flipped the page, hoping he wasn’t as flushed as he felt. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips and he sucked in a deep breath as his face caught the right angle of light. Castiel tilted his head to the side slowly, watching him carefully.

“I go home when it rains.” Castiel offered, hoping it was enough of an explanation. The grip he held on his pencil was tight and if he wasn’t careful, he might snap the wood. “I don’t have any siblings. It’s just my mom, dad and I.” His voice was strained as he mentioned his father. Okay. Subject change. “Do you have any siblings?” he asked. “And it seems like you have a lot of free time seeing as you never have your work done,” Castiel threw back at him, wincing slightly at how sharp the words sounded coming from his mouth. This guy was pissing him off though, making him anxious- this was normally how he felt when in the house, not out of it.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve got a brother. Couple years younger, name’s Sammy.” His grin faded slightly. “My dad’s an ex-marine. He road trips a lot, and so he’s gone a lot and I babysit Sam.” The smile dropped off his face entirely and he stared at his hands for a moment. “Mom’s dead.” Dean turned back to his book then, and scribbled another short paragraph before dogearing the page he was on and flipping forward to the next act. “Actually, I don’t have that much spare time.”

For a moment he considered telling Castiel everything; his father’s drinking, the fire. Taking care of his little brother. The empty house. _The fire_. Then he let out another barking laugh, and let loose a string of easy lies. “You know. Afternoon job. Takin’ all the girls out to dinner. That sort of thing.” People don’t just dish out all of their crap on someone they just met.

Castiel nodded as he continued scribbling. It would make sense. He seemed like a nice guy. all the girls must be hounding after him. Younger brother…Something clicked in Castiel’s head. Duh. Sam Winchester. He went to the local middle school. “Sounds nice.” Cas said. Not a life he has at least, yet Cas knew something else was on his mind.

The larger boy looked over at his classmate, his eyes dripping from the flush at his neck down his long, gracefully built arms to his gentle hands, busy scratching at the paper, before he returned to the soft blue eyes, the slightly bitten lip. Dean returned to his book and read a few pages more. The sound of the the breeze filled the silence, the soft rustling of leaves forming a quiet harmony around them as the canopy above was stirred by the soft wind. “So, you just sit here and do your work like a good little boy. Mom and Daddy must be proud.”

Sensing Dean’s eyes on him Castiel looked up, watching him before nervously tugging on his sleeves. “I..” he didn’t have anything to say. His dad could give a flying fuck about his homework as long as he was home for later. “I have to go.” Castiel said abruptly, shoving books and things into his bag hurriedly, his anxiety levels skyrocketing. He hadn’t spent twenty minutes with the guy and he was having a heart attack. This was bullshit. He didn’t need to be antagonized.

Dean had been hunting a few times with his dad. They’d set up really early in a deer stand before the sun was up, rifles in hand, and wait until something happened by. Sometimes the saw something. More often they didn’t. There was one occasion a big buck wandered in front; he lined it up in the scope after a motion from his father, stilled his breath and readied his fingers. Then something fell from his pocket- a red multitool. It clattered on the floor, danced precariously over the opening in the floor, and then dropped noisily down the metal ladder to the forest below. The deer flinched, turning its head in their direction with wide eyes before bolting. He’d seen the look on Castiel’s face in that deer as it bounded away, white tail flashing. It was fear. Raw terror.

Were they in a similar place now, he the hunter and Castiel the fleeing prey? He didn’t think so; hoped not, even as he wondered exactly what he’d said to set the boy off as he stared at his receding back. After a moment he sighed, sated up once more at the greenery above him, and packed away his things. There was no reason to keep up the pretense of studying now. Dean shouldered his bag and began the walk home. He stopped at the middle school and picked up his brother, but was too inwardly focused to hear Sam prattle on about his day; his mind reeled with Castiel. Oh well. He’d see him tomorrow in class.


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah, Castiel tripped on the curb. Yeah, he knew Dean didn’t have clue what was going on. But Cas tielknew that if he didn’t leave before he had found anything out, Castiel would be in deep shit. Best to flee. As they say “Flee or die.” and Castiel would rather not die right about now, even if he hated his life. He ran through a list of plausible excuses he could use tomorrow when Dean - no doubt - came to ask him what the in the hell had happened because normal people didn't bolt like that.

He didn’t live far, so it only took him a few minutes to get to his front porch, and it didn’t sound good. He knew his father was home. He knew he was looking for him. Castiel also knew that he wasn’t there. Of course, he was in deep shit no matter what. Dead end dad for a dead end family.

He kept quiet in class the next day, not answering the questions like usual, nor speaking to anyone. Well, that wasn’t new, but today Castiel was remarkably more reserved. He kept to himself, tried to keep a straight face, and switched positions in his seat every so often to dull the ache of the bruises forming along his thighs, purple trailing his arms under a long, dark blue sweater. He avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone, especially Dean. Dean knew, just a bit; of course he'd sensed it. Castiel briefly debated going to his usual spot- wasn’t much of an option, but decided to anyways, setting his stuff down and getting settled, waiting for any tell tale sign of his new ‘friend’.

Dean noticed the change in Castiel that day; he was observant enough to read the difference, and he pondered it through the day. English was boring, filled only with a pop quiz and some bullshit reading aloud. He hated that- he could read the damn crap play by himself, thanks. He skipped math and was late to chemistry, electing instead to sit by himself on the field with his ipod, a tattered copy of the Fellowship in his hands as the clouds raced across the azure sky above.

He made it to his last class, an art elective, and when the final bell rang he joined his fellow students as they swarmed the halls. Lockers banged, cried of “call me!” rang out over the buzz of conversations. He didn’t see Castiel anywhere- maybe he went home early. Doubtful. After the halls cleared out a bit and he made sure Castiel wasn’t hiding away somewhere, he sighed and shouldered his back. The walk to the oak wasn’t far and he made it in only a few minutes, enjoying the easy pull of muscle. Walking was nice. Dean found his classmate camped out beneath the massive tree, and he approached with slightly cautious movements; he didn’t want to freak him out again.

Castiel squinted at his Algebra homework, tapping something into his calculator quickly before scribbling down a string of number. He tensed at the sound of distant footsteps. Duh. Why did it surprise him? He lifted his head slightly, looking Dean over as he moved. The other boy walked with caution, as if he was hoping he wouldn’t spook him off. Putting on a somewhat strained sort of half smile, Castiel put his calculater down. “Hello, Dean.” he murmured, shifting against the ground and wincing in pain. “What brings you out here?” he said in a low voice. Yeah, he knew Dean was on to him - even if he didn’t know what exactly was wrong.

“Oh, you know,” Dean replied, giving Castiel a once over and grinning wide. “Just checking out the scenery. Didn’t see much of you today, what’s up?” Dean threw his bag and it thumped in the grass as he sat down in the grass next to his schoolmate. He looked bother, wary- his tense expression boarded slightly on annoyed, too. Dean knew he wasn’t wanted here. Bit too late to turn around though, wasn’t it?

As he had the day before, Dean reached into his backpack and pulled out a textbook; instead of Macbeth it was a green, heavy book with the word “chemistry” emblazoned on the cover. A different notebook this time as well, and a battered calculator. Dean grimaced- he hated math. He allowed Castiel a few minutes of quiet, filled with the sounds of the tree rustling, pens scratching on paper before he spoke. “So, what’s been with you? Got all antisocial all of a sudden.” He chuckled, then continued in a more serious tone. “Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but you seem a bit shaken up lately. What’s the deal?”

Castiel watched his classmate warily, continuing his homework before thinking on how to answer. “I keep to myself.” he said in a low voice before he looked up, watching as dean worked with his calculator. From Dean’s expression, the green eyed kid seemed to dislike math as much as he did. It was peaceful for a few minutes before the asshole asked another question and Castiel tensed, looking up.

 _Don’t want to hear this_ \- He sat up automatically as those rosy lips parted, moving to gather his things and wincing in pain again. Too fast- still sore in many places. His arms felt somewhat numb and his thighs ached and his face could have done without the one on one session with the floor it had last night. He’d hidden the welts well enough though, but just thinking of that brought back the memory of the night before and he slumped back, heart accelerating as he remembered and suddenly there wasn’t enough air even if he was sitting in the middle of field with many plants going through photosynthesis and giving off oxygen.

He gasped and clutched as his legs desperately. Nice. He was sure Dean would just leave awkwardly and then he would lose another somewhat friend and he had barely spoken to him this time. All he remembered was his mother whimpering and the sound of his father’s drunken shouts and his breath in his ear and the feel of his skin against his own and all Castiel wanted to do was vomit.

 _Oh. Oh god._ Dean realized maybe he wasn’t as observant as he thought. Something was wrong, very wrong. Castiel was gasping- green eyes darted across his face. Was that- a bruise? Lip slightly swollen? “Cas? Cas, you okay?” The books shifted, dropped to the ground as he moved, arms reaching for his friend. Yeah, there were bruises. No wonder Castiel had kept his head down today; he looked awful. Maybe it was just worse in this light- he hoped. “God, Cas, who did this to you?”

His fingers clutched the front of his friend’s shirt. “Who did this?” There was something new in his voice. Concern, yes, boundless concern. Confusion. Shock? His eyes were wide as they searched Castiel’s face. His classmate looked like he was having some kind of panic attack, his eyes reeling, chest heaving. That fear was back in his face.

“Is this it? Is this why you hide out here all day? Is someone beating you up?” growled Dean. “What do your parents say? Aren’t they upset?” He hated bad parents, hated them with a passion. “Cas, c’mon!”

“Please don’t touch me.” Cas whimpered softly, trying to push away from Dean as he squirmed back, pressing himself against the tree behind him. He had made it a habit to keep his bruises hidden from view, but sometimes it was impossible. Like today. _Fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello, Mistress-Winchester here (Yep, just gonna steal your notes Skye) I will try to update this as much as I can, but I'm scrambling to find all the pieces to our roleplay and may just rewrite some of it to fill in the missing pieces
> 
> Castiel is played (written) by me. Feadubh plays (writes) Dean.


End file.
